Adore(n) Me
by TheMadKatter13
Summary: [Kinktober series 22] The only thing standing between Lance and a night of great sex with his sugar daddy was a gala. Oh, and Lance's own insecurities. AU; Sugar Daddy Lotor / Sugar Baby Lance
1. Adore(n) Me

**TITLE: Adore(n) Me**

**SUMMARY: [Kinktober series 22] The only thing standing between Lance and a night of great sex with his sugar daddy was a gala. Oh, and Lance's own insecurities.**

**AO3 TAGS: Alternate Universe, neo yokio - Freeform, setting not relevant to plot, sugaring, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Lotor, Sugar Baby Lance (Voltron), Daddy Kink, but not actually Daddy kink just jokes about it, Lance (Voltron) in Dresses, Corsetry, High Heels, Height Differences, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Lotor (Voltron), Light Angst, Insecurity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alien Biology, Alien Cock, Alien Sex, Top Lotor (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Anal, Anal Sex, Counter Sex, Lance (Voltron) is a Brat, Exhibitionism, light exhibitionism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017**

**AN: This fic technically takes place in Neo Yokio, which actually had almost no relevance to the plot so... no, you don't have to have seen the show. lol The only thing I used from the show was sports fields on the rooftops (saves space I guess), and aliens landing on earth in the 18th century (in the show, it was demons rising up from under the earth's surface). The one thing I didn't get to use from the show that I wanted to was the Most Eligible Bachelor billboard in 'Times Square' (updated in real time), but I just want you to know that Lotor is #1.**

**Bratty sugar baby Lance's theme song is 'Throw A Fit' by Tinashe, for which there's an amazing choreo by Cameron Lee that I watched for a solid week. You might think that's hyperbole but I'm dead serious.**

**I also made a sort of outfit collage of what I basically envisioned as Lance's gala outfit (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, post/182727857663), though due to differences in imagination vs reality, some of the examples aren't exactly spot on.**

**Betaed by the lovely Vixen13 (AO3) who quite kindly put up with all of MY insecurities about this piece. lol**

* * *

Day 23: Shibari | **Corset** | Against a wall

"Hey, Lance!"

Lance looked up from retying his cleats and found Pidge walking toward him with Lance's ringing communicator in hand, only barely audible over the sound of spectators filling the stands behind him.

"I thought your dad was saved as 'papi' in your phone?" Pidge asked, lobbing the device at him. The gold henna on his hand flashed in the sun when his arm jerked up to catch it, and he had to force himself to ignore the mesmerizing symmetry of the pattern on the back his hand and fingers.

The display was flashing _DADDY_ and he grinned. "He is," he winked, flipping the device open. The video screen popped up with a cute little ancient phone icon wobbling with every ring.

There was a split second of silence from Pidge, a silence where Lance could practically see 'Computing…' scrolling across the ever-present glasses, before his implication registered. "UGH!" Pidge cried emphatically with a moue of distaste. "I didn't need to know that!" Pidge shouted, darting towards where Hunk was nervously bouncing a soccer ball on his knees.

Lance was still laughing when he tapped ANSWER and Lotor's classic resting bitch face appeared on his screen. "Hey Daddy," he greeted cheerfully.

Lotor blinked once, slowly, and in the brief pause his sugar daddy's eyes were closed, Lance could practically _hear_ the prayer for patience from any god who would listen. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking out into laughter again. The Galran prince _hated_ when Lance called him that, but if he really hated it that bad, he'd find a different sugar baby - someone _infinitely_ more boring and with _none_ of Lance's pizzaz.

Plus, it was his fault that he hadn't figured out that Lance only called him that because he hated it so much.

_"Are you ready for this evening?"_ Lotor asked, as if Lance hadn't spoken.

Lance let him have the win for once - the game was going to start soon and he, unfortunately, didn't have enough time to play around.

"Yup! Blue painted me up yesterday-" he held up his identically hennaed hands as proof, "-and as soon as this game's over, I'm going straight to the hotel room to shower and get dolled up before you come to get me." He'd even responsibly laid out everything Lotor had had delivered earlier in the week before he'd left: outfit on the bed and makeup on the bathroom counter. It always made him miss home, seeing his date night materials organized on such a sterile space instead of the chaotic clutter of the bathroom in his family home, but he'd much rather get ready for his dates with his secret sugar daddy in the privacy of a hotel room instead of fending off a sibling or a cousin, or worse, his _mom_, every three seconds.

_"Very goo- Game?"_ Lotor frowned, clearly derailed. Lance was turned at an angle so Lotor couldn't see the stands, but also so the stands couldn't see Lotor, a deference to Lotor's prefered privacy whenever he wasn't intentionally showing Lance off.

But there was a little too much confusion in Lotor's face and it made Lance confused too. Until he realized he'd never even mentioned he liked soccer, much less played it. He leaned back to put his jersey into view and proudly pulled at the PALADIN emblazoned on his chest. "Yup! Lucky number 11. And I'm pretty good, if I do say so myself." He winked. "First game of the season today and I cannot _wait_ to kick the Robeasts's asses." He leaned in to whisper behind his hand. "They think they're our arch-nemesis. It's cute," he confided conspiratorially.

_"You're… a Paladin…"_ Lotor said slowly after a long moment.

Lance wiggled his shirtfront again, fingers tugging the PALADIN int N, for emphasis.

Suddenly, Lotor grinned sharply, the edge of one fang just barely visible between his lips, and Lance found himself shifting on the bench. By now, he had a somewhat Pavlovian response to any and all predatory expressions on his Galran lover's face and right before a big game was not the time to have that kind of reaction. Especially when he could see his family collecting in the middle of the stands and waving enthusiastically his way.

_"I look forward to being regaled with your victory when I pick you up at 8."_

Lotor's certainty in the other team's imminent defeat was better than any 'Good luck!' and it made Lance's chest warm. He had no delusions that Lotor was suddenly going to profess his love and ask for Lance's hand in marriage or anything like that, but that didn't mean that Lance couldn't enjoy the Galran's minor romantic gestures when they came.

"Will do, Daddy," Lance said, feeling his own mouth stretching in a grin. Lotor rolled his eyes but Lance could see the fond little quirk at the corner of the alien's lips so he blew the man a kiss with a wink and ended the call.

His mecha butler was, as always, standing nearby and Lance called "Blue, catch!" before tossing his communicator at her. She'd been a gift from Lotor after Lance had seen her at a store and then begged for her for an hour straight while he rode Lotor into compliance, and she never left his side unless he was out with Lotor. She caught the device and tucked it away just as the ref blew the whistle and players started making their way onto the field, and as Lance moved to join them, he saw her revert to her feline form and recline on the grass.

"Ready to lose?" a Robeast passing Lance sneered, and Lance just grinned back, forcing himself to stay silent.

The Galrans that made up their enemy team might have had their pride on the line, but that had nothing on Lance - he had his sugar daddy to please, after all.

* * *

The entirety of the attending McClain clan was almost louder than the rest of the spectators combined, which probably had as much to do with the absolute awesomeness of Lance's last score as it did with the fact that the referee just blew the whistle on the game end, Paladins 3-1. Lance wanted nothing more than to stay and celebrate, but he had to get back to the hotel room to make sure he looked better than perfect for his sugar daddy.

"Good game everyone see you later!" he shouted, jogging away from the celebration.

"Where are you going?" Shiro called after him, frowning adorably.

For a brief second, he made knowing eye contact with Pidge until Pidge broke the connection with a grimace of annoyance and an eye roll. "To get ready for my date!" he replied and leapt off the roof.

Blue, in her humanoid form, obediently caught him in her arms, and as they rose back above the roofline, he waved like a parade princess from his dramatic recline.

"Show off!" Keith shouted and Lance blew him a kiss before Blue sped them out of sight.

* * *

A low rumble in the air stirred Lance from his doze and he opened his eyes to a room full of fading sunlight and Lotor seated at the end of his chaise. Lance's high-heeled feet were held in place on Lotor's lap by a large hand across his ankles, and he spotted the man's other hand on Blue's head, petting her like she was a real cat.

"I'd almost find it creepy that you're watching me sleep again," Lance murmured, stretching luxuriously from head to toe and relishing in the tightening of his muscles and the feel of silk over his skin, "but I know I'm a work of art - I was _born_ to be appreciated." He paused with his arms over his head, the very pose meant to accentuate and draw attention to the lines of his body, and watched Lotor take him in with hooded eyes.

He hadn't exactly planned on falling asleep while he waited for Lotor to show up, but between his game and a night spent in a room so quiet compared to his family home that the silence rang loud enough to keep him tossing and turning, he'd been _exhausted_. By the he'd finished his makeup and got all his clothes in their rightful places, he'd barely been conscious enough to make it to the chaise and arrange himself in a way that wouldn't ruin all the work put into his outfit before he passed out.

Work that he knew was appreciated by the way he could practically _feel_ the weight of that purple gaze as it travelled up the slitted front of his skirts and traced over the gold scales scattered up his thigh highs. The pause drew out, and that gaze drew up, until Lotor finally met his eyes… and then smiled. It was small, but when his Galran hardly ever smiled a real smile, small was _enormous_. And no matter how many times Lance told himself not to get attached, that real smile sent warmth blooming through his chest. In an effort to disguise the alien's affect on him, and maybe a little because Lance couldn't resist the dramatics of it, he smoothed his hands down his ribs and the solid lines of his corset under the see-through top half of his dress without breaking eye contact.

He almost didn't remember in time not to put too much pressure on the sheer fabric for fear of ripping, or worse, wrinkling, it.

"You're not incorrect," Lotor finally conceded, accented voice just as soft as Lance's, as if in deference to the comforting stillness in the hotel room. Long fingers crept up Lance's leg and he licked his lips at the barely-there pressure at the inside of his thigh, knees falling open in invitation. Then, without even the hint of warning, Lotor suddenly stood and declared "Gala first, sex later," absolutely and rudely ignoring Lance's offended gasp. In fact, his expression and posture were nothing short of the picture of composure as he looked down at Lance and held out a helping hand, but Lance pouted at the gesture, feeling both a little insulted and a little mischievous. Okay, and a little horny. But really, what event wasn't better after a savage fucking?

Eyes fixed firmly, challengingly, on Lotor's, Lance trailed his fingers over the curve of his hip, the suns hennaed on his shoulders and the backs of his hands, and all the golden drips like stars in between, glimmering in the fading sunlight. Lotor stayed strong and steady in the face of temptation as Lance exerted the barest pressure on the silk chiffon of his skirts, gaze unwavering as the calluses on his fingerpads caught and pulled the fragile fabric up up up past his thigh highs. But as soon as Lance could feel the telltale shift of air over his pelvis, Lotor broke, eyes falling to the finer lace that made up Lance's panties.

The fabrics of his underwear and dress almost blended together, their colours aligned so well. In fact, all the blue Lance was wearing - from his dress to his corset, underwear and shoes, his primary eyeshadow and his nail polish - were all the same exact shade of sky blue. It made Lance feel like a million GAC, knowing that Lotor had to have either handpicked or hand-commissioned everything he wore to get the pigments to match so precisely. Even the gold highlights in his eyeshadow and the filigree on his corset and the scales on his thigh highs matched the henna on his skin, and it made him feel so _expensive_. He joked that he was art (a lot), but when he looked like he did, all dolled up for his sugar daddy, he really felt like it.

And then there was when Lotor looked at him like _that_ \- Lance felt absolutely. fucking. _priceless_.

"Are you sure we can't have sex first?" Lance whispered, licking his lips and spreading his legs, the shimmer of gold across them only further serving to draw Lotor's hungry eyes. "I know how much you love taking me out when my hair looks like you've been pulling at it for hours." His hair was soft and flat against his skull and the side of his face at the moment, but when they fucked, Lotor seemed to love nothing more than sending it into disarray. Lance wouldn't say he minded either.

Lotor's eyes narrowed and Lance's heart skipped a beat. The Galra were, if nothing else, an intimidating species, their shortest purebreds a head above even the tallest Alteans, and every line of their soft, furry limbs were built for strength. Lotor was half Altean, lacking in both the extreme height and the furred skin, but he was no less intimidating than the rest of his race. And whatever he may have lacked in strength, he made up for in sheer speed and cunning, all his rage hidden behind a shroud of absolute calm. Lance had been privileged enough to attend a few of his arena matches, and each time he could only watch with bated breath and a barely concealed hard-on as Lotor decimated each and every one of his opponents.

Okay, sue him - he had a competency kink, so what?

"Gala first. Then sex," Lotor said again, slower, and Lance knew in that moment how tempted the Galran was to break that plan. "If you're a good boy, I may fuck you _at_ the gala."

Lance swallowed hard as his cock twitched, and Lotor's eyes followed the slight shift in the lace.

"But," Lotor continued, voice low and eyes finally meeting Lance's, "you'll have be _very_ good."

Lance felt his next exhale shake out of his chest as he fought to keep himself still - sometimes Lotor could be so deliciously… _intense_.

"I can be so good," Lance whispered, finally letting go of the hem of his dress and letting the silk fall to cover his underwear again. He held his hand out and Lotor took it, gently helping Lance to his feet and right into Lotor's chest. Even with Lance's heels boosting him up an extra handful of inches, he was still more than a full head shorter than Lotor and he had to crane his neck back to meet the Galran's eyes.

There was a tense moment where Lotor leaned in, his mouth so close to Lance's that they were breathing each other's air - although Lance was barely breathing in anticipation - and then Lotor pulled back without even letting their lips brush. Lance pouted in disappointment and Lotor smiled again, large hand rising to cup the side of Lance's face, a soft thumb brushing the plush curve of Lance's bottom lip.

"If I kiss you, we'll never make it to the gala," Lotor said before straightening, making Lance realize that the Galran had been leaning down as much as Lance had been rising up. "Let's go."

Lotor finally stepped away and Lance finally felt like he could breathe and think clearly again, though he really didn't want to. Still, being a sugar baby wasn't about what he wanted, and he could be a professional when he needed to be, so he nodded and straightened, shaking out his skirts with his free hand as Lotor escorted him to the door like the true gentleman he was. A slightly impatient gentlemen though, if the way he tugged Lance out of the room as he was wishing Blue a good night was any indication.

Though if history had taught Lance anything, it was that Lotor was even more eager to get to the end of their night than Lance was.

* * *

Shame was a mostly-unfamiliar feeling for Lance, but the sick feeling that had been camping somewhere between his chest and his stomach for the last two hours was pretty unmistakable. His face had been burning in humiliation for almost as long, and he felt stupid for not asking Lotor more questions about their date. Why should he have? His sugar daddy had asked Lance to accompany him to a ball and told him that everything he would need to wear would be provided, and Lance had _trusted_ him. He'd put his trust in a Galran and now Lance was the subject of dirty, _hateful_ looks and whispered, judgemental gossip; he was a heathen.

A heathen in blue and gold.

At the Black and White Ball.

Lance had never felt more embarrassed in his life than he had only a few feet into the ball, his glow of self-pride fading as he noticed that he was the only attendant in colour. And that was held against literally every other moment in his life. Especially considering Pidge kept telling him he was the "epitome of chaotic dumbass", which Lance still wasn't sure was an insult or not. But this, blatantly dressing him in colours not permissible by the fashion-obsessed elite at their little themed party? That _definitely_ felt like an insult.

And to add _more_ insult to injury, a heap of salt directly into the wound, Lotor's _parents_ were there, and Lotor had _introduced_ Lance to them. That had been at the beginning of the party, when Lotor had ignored the dance floor and immediately guided Lance to his parent's table, and neither of them had stopped sneering at Lance since. Which, awesome. Who didn't want the king and queen of the entire Galran race to absolutely hate them before they'd so much as said 'hi'?

"And Lance here," Lotor said, finally turning towards Lance for the first time in the entire conversation, "is the striker for the Paladins. He tells me they had quite the easy victory over the Robeasts earlier today."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance could see Lotor smiling at him, a strange mix of pride and smugness, but Lance's attention was mostly stuck on the way Queen Honerva was suddenly glaring at him with renewed intent, her jaw clenched tight. The tension in his spine, already at an all-time high from being the center of such unwanted attention, ratcheted a notch higher. And then he noticed King Zarkon's glare, and his back went so rigid that he could feel the start of a tension headache setup shop in his skull.

"The Robeasts is the team my mother created and built," Lotor said, leaning into Lance like he was confiding a secret, even as he said it loud enough that his parents could hear. At least they couldn't hear Lance's composure shatter as all the pieces fell into place.

"I have to go to the restroom, please excuse me," he demured, bowing his head as he stood.

He caught a glimpse of Lotor's expression, a muted sort of annoyed surprise, as he turned and walked away, but he couldn't let himself stop moving. There was a tightness in his chest and a building burning in his eyes and he sped up as much as he dared without drawing attention to himself, trying to get to the bathroom before the dam broke.

He couldn't even enjoy the drama of his skirts whipping around his legs or the murderous _click_ of his heels, he was so upset, and not even the theatrical bursting-through-the-door entrance he made into the restrooms made him feel better. He made a beeline for the tissues on the counter, turning his face towards the brighter lights above the mirror and willing them to burn away the tears in the corners of his eyes before they could spill over. He spent half an hour on his makeup - he was not letting something as stupid as humiliation or frustration ruin his eyeliner.

The door opened behind him while he was dabbing away the moisture and he snapped out a reflexive "Get out!", wishing he had a bit of Galran growl to back it up. Hands gripped his arms and he felt his heart leap into his throat as he was harshly turned around, and it barely moved back towards its rightful place when he realized it was Lotor.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Lotor hissed in his face, teeth noticeably sharper than usual. Everything about him was warning Lance to submit, but Lance wasn't a "chaotic dumbass" for nothing.

"No, what do _you_ think you're doing?" he hissed back, a sudden burst of adrenaline giving him the courage he needed to shove Lotor away from him.

For the first time in the two years they'd known each other, Lance got to see a nonplussed Lotor. Too bad he was too close to murder to appreciate it.

"I don't care how much you pay me, I do _not_ deserve to be treated like that," he seethed, hand cutting through the air. It wasn't exactly a precise condemnation of the evening, but it took every ounce of his willpower to say even that. Hell, a few years ago, like when he first started as a sugar baby, Lance would have just sat there the whole evening and taken it. It had taken a long time to get to the point where he could recognize and uphold his own self-worth, but he was there now and he wasn't backing down. No matter how well Lotor paid or how good his dick was or how much Lance might have _like_-liked him.

"Lance-"

"I am a _companion_, not a- a- toy! For you to drag out and _humiliate_-"

"Lance!"

The sheer unnaturalness of Lotor raising his voice brought Lance, and his talkative hands, up short, and his sudden stillness made the harshness of his breathing and the heat in his face and chest painfully obvious. He swallowed, the reflex almost painful in his tight throat, and realized that Lotor was starting at him in mild alarm and… concern?

"What," he said shortly, four short letters and all of them full of challenge.

Lotor stepped forward, body language hesitant even though he could 1000% beat Lance down if for some reason they ever got in a physical fight. Lance's raised hands fell naturally to the wall of Lotor's shoulders, and he didn't flinch when the Galran's hand started rising, but it was a near thing. The touch to his cheek was soft and hesitant, and the closing of the distance between their bodies even more so, but it wasn't until he felt a thumb trace the line of his cheekbone that all of his high-strung emotions drained from him, leaving him boneless and tired.

"Lance, why do you feel humiliated?"

He blinked, all his exhaustion from earlier in the day slamming back into him and making him crave his own bed in his own home surrounded by the comfort of his own family. "Lotor-"

"Shhh," Lotor breathed out, weight settling against Lance, forcing the harsh line of the counter against the back of Lance's thighs, directly under his ass; any other time, Lance would be trying to hop up the last inch and get a good counter fucking. As it was, the uncharacteristic softness of Lotor's expression was probably the only thing keeping Lance from feeling trapped and hyperventilating his way into a panic attack. "Why do you feel humiliated?" he asked again, voice softer, a comforting rumble through Lance's chest.

Lance took in a deep, slow breath as he closed his eyes, held it as long as he could, and then slowly let it back out. It still took a few tries for his throat to loosen enough for him to be able to speak.

"Everyone here started hating me the second I walked in. Maybe you haven't noticed because you've been too busy trying to verbally stick it to your parents - who also hate me by the way - but every single one of them's been shit-talking me 'cause I'm some poor trash who doesn't know how to not wear colour." As if Lance didn't know exactly how to sell his own image better than they did, those cheaters with their 'stylists'.

"Oh! And then, haha, you had to tell your mom, the _queen_, in case you forgot, that my soccer team fucking obliterated her soccer team today, so she super hates me now. And because she hates me, of course your dad, the _king, **in case you forgot**_, hates me too, and sure I'm never going to run into them when I'm not with you, but I'd rather not be hated by your people's fucking _monarchy_ and I can only assume that you're ashamed of me in some way because you haven't even looked at me or asked me to dance all ni-"

He hadn't even realized how much steam he'd picked up or how much he was talking until Lotor's hand was covering his mouth, startling him into derailment. He blinked, surprised to find himself breathing even harder, his heart like a heavy drum against his ribs. And Lotor was staring at him, but it wasn't with annoyance or superiority like Lance had thought he would be, but with compassion.

"This is how you've felt since we've arrived?" For some reason, it was the softness of his voice that suddenly reminded Lance that they were in the bathroom; at least no one had walked in yet. He nodded under Lotor's hand, carefully, and Lotor slowly lowered it.

"Yes," he whispered, unable to maintain eye contact.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice."

Lance jerked back at the admission, staring at Lotor wide-eyed in surprise.

"I apologize for not seeing the impact my actions had on you," he continued, as if Lance hadn't reacted, "and while I recognize the validity of your feelings on the matter, I would like to offer another viewpoint?"

It took Lance a moment to realize Lotor was actually waiting for a response, and when he carefully nodded his head, he was treated to a rare smile that, despite himself, did (annoying) wonders to calm him down.

"I cannot speak for my parents, who hate almost everyone, including myself at times, and each other at others, but all the looks you've been getting since we arrived haven't been of hate, but of envy."

Lance stared. And stared some more. "Mmmhmmm," he finally hummed as doubtfully as he could. To his (_incredibly_) reluctant delight, it made Lotor laugh.

"I forget sometimes that humans don't have the hearing Galrans or Alteans have," Lotor said, hands stroking down Lance's neck, over his his bare shoulders, and down his ribs to his hips. The touch, just there enough to make Lance shiver, made his heart rate pick up again for a whole new reason. "I can assure you that every person here wishes they were the one who thought to flout the rules, to be the one person standing out amongst the rest. Moreso, they all wish they'd discovered you, instead of me. That you were the ornament on their arm, not mine."

As much as his anxiety and self-esteem issues didn't want to see things from Lotor's point of view, their relationship, if not just the date/night in general, possibly depended on it, and he forced himself to re-examine his memories of the evening, ignoring the way his insecurities railed against such evaluation. And while he knew for a fact that every person he'd passed had stared, and at least half had leaned in to whisper to their companion, none had stopped to deliver an insult carefully worded as a compliment, a craft the rich were _weirdly_ adept at. A craft to which Lance had been subjected to a great deal, especially in the beginning of his sugaring career when he couldn't afford an expensive look, or when the expensive looks he was given by his sugar daddies didn't so much as compliment him as they did insult him.

Though… now that he thought about it, he hadn't experienced any of that since he'd been Lotor's. No one ever tried to insult him when he was at the Galran's side. Or even when they were separated. And even with the current evening included, Lotor had never once slighted Lance in even the most miniscule way - he'd never purposefully purchased the wrong cut of an outfit as a passive-aggressively insulting 'gift', much less the wrong colour. Never so much as purchased a foreign shampoo that didn't accent Lance's natural scent instead of muddy or override it.

In fact, in two whole years, Lotor had never once done anything that Lance could construe as hurtful in anyway, intentional or not. And that realization, more than anything else, was the tipping point towards convincing him that maybe, despite his confidence and pride in his appearance and his place, he may have been viewing the entire evening through his own insecurities. Then Lotor's compliments registered.

"Ornament?" he parroted, looking up at Lotor through his eyelashes.

The Galran smiled, tension leaching out of his shoulders, as if in relief, and Lance found himself oddly comforted by the fact that Lotor had been at least a little bit as anxious about the situation as he had. "You are a work of art," Lotor said, echoing Lance's earlier words, though the way he said it, with all sincerity, had Lance blushing. "And works of art should not be shadowed in blacks or muted by whites. They should be highlighted only by that which would improve the show."

"Oh, I'm a show now, am I?" Lance teased, trying to regain the light-hearted mood they'd been in during the ride to the ball, even though that unsettled feeling was still rolling through his stomach, fading, but still there. Part of what made them work so well was their easy camaraderie, and Lance knew he could find his rhythm again if only he beat down that part of himself that was constantly whispering _"You're not good enough…"_

"My dear," Lotor breathed against his mouth and Lance's heart skipped a beat, "you are an _experience_."

The kiss was slow but intense, Lotor licking into his mouth like he could crawl right into Lance if he just tried hard enough, and Lance wrapped his arms around Lotor's neck in turn, fingers tangling in the long strands of pale, silky hair. It was almost a comfort, to feel his sugar daddy's affection for him, especially the hard line of heat pressing against his belly as he was bent backwards over the counter.

The fingers at his waist smoothed down to his ass, cupping then squeezing, and he groaned, arching into Lotor's body, feeling his own cock harden as arousal sparked in his groin. They pulled him away from the counter, and he felt a brief flash of disappointment when they left his body, and then there was a peculiar breeze against Lance's legs, a shift of his skirts, and Lance broke away with a confused sound.

He turned to look behind him and found his skirts splayed over the counter like seafoam, and he turned back towards Lotor with a raised eyebrow.

"I think," Lotor said, warm, calloused fingers slipping under the hem of lace at the base of Lance's spine and making Lance's breath grow short as hands slowly pushed Lance's panties down his thighs, "that you have been a _very_ good boy."

A hand curled around the back of one of Lance's thighs, pulling his leg up. Lance could only watch as Lotor bent to help Lance's foot, shoe and all, through one leg of his panties, leaving them hanging around his other ankle. And after lifting Lance onto the counter, it was that leg, for some reason, that Lotor lifted and draped the ankle of over his shoulder, leaving his panties dangling from his foot down Lotor's back and forcing Lance into a split. A split that left him tantalizingly exposed. Good thing he was absurdly flexible.

"And do you remember what I said I would do if you've been very good?"

Lance grinned, pleased to feel his self-confidence returning, and relieved that his favourite sugar daddy of all time hadn't actually betrayed him. "Fuck yeah I do," he said, and turned to snag the lotion off the counter, eyes scanning over the label even as he pushed the bottle into Lotor's hands. One of the neat little perks of dating a wealthy alien was that there was always all-purpose lotion everywhere they went, the kind that was good for any kind of alien skin. Which meant it made fan_tastic_ lube.

At the first press of a lotion-slicked thumb against his hole, rubbing against the muscle without pushing in, he hummed and his eyes fell closed, his head falling back. Lips brushed his neck like butterfly kisses, a secondary teasing touch that made him shiver. "Lotor…" he whined, tugging at the hair wrapped around his fingers.

"You're always so impatient," Lotor said with a soft chuckle. And then he immediately pushed three fingers into Lance's ass, making Lance tense automatically.

"Pot, kettle," Lance snarked back as he forced his body to relax against the intrusion.

"Do you want me to take my time here?" Lotor asked, fingers starting to slowly pump in and out of Lance. That soft, ticklish touch of lips at his neck moved up past his jaw to his ear, fangs carefully taking hold of his lobe for an arousing moment that made his cock throb. "Because I could. I've always wanted to spend hours just taking you apart, fingering you until you cried, fucking you until you forgot how to speak, but you always want me to take you as hard and as fast as I can, and I do so love to oblige your desires."

Lance might have possibly forgotten how to breathe entirely, and he might have found himself right on the edge of coming for no other reason than imagining exactly the kind of afternoon Lotor was dangling in front of him. Lotor wasn't wrong - Lance too often craved the savage fucking only a Galran, especially Lotor, could give him, but the fantasy his lover was describing was utter temptation.

"I need an answer, Lance." Lotor's low voice and the unyielding press of fingers in his ass, so forceful that he could feel the curve of the man's third knuckles sinking into him, forced Lance into awareness, but it didn't help him regain full speaking capabilities. "Would you like me to take my time?"

He swallowed hard, trying to remember how to use his voice box, and then Lotor wrapped his other hand around Lance's cock and he yelped, surprised by the touch. "N-no," he stuttered, tugging harder on Lotor's hair than he meant to. "Not r-right now."

"Perhaps tomorrow then," Lotor said, almost as if in agreement, and pulled his fingers out, ignoring Lance's whine. A whine which faded quick at the sight of Lotor squeezing more lotion into his palm, a palm that immediately slathered the impromptu lube over his cock. Which Lance hadn't even realized Lotor had pulled out, but there it was, sticking out from the v of Galra military dress pants. For some reason, the sight was just… strangely erotic, and Lance could hardly bring himself to look away, even as the head of Lotor's cock disappeared into Lance's body.

The human body's capability to adapt was never as impressive to Lance as when he was forcing his to accept the almost-too-massive ridged length of a Galran cock. Being half-Altean, Lotor's wasn't as thick or as long as some others Lance had had, but it was still bigger (in every way) than most alien species, and definitely bigger than _Homo sapiens_ (emphasis on the _homo_). Lotor was always just enough to stretch Lance to his limits, to… _fulfill_ him in the same way he was filled. If they were in a fairy tale, then Lotor's cock would be Lance's Just RIght.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," he chanted under his breath as Lotor sunk into him, filling him until he felt like he was going to fly apart. And thank the Goddess that he didn't stop halfway through like used to do in the beginning, back when they were new and he mistook Lance's coping mechanism as a sign of pain rather than pleasure. Now he knew better than to stop until Lance was fucked out and leaking. "Fucking fuck you feel so good."

When Lance started… 'dating', he decided to start a little bingo card of sorts, a different alien race on each square. The GALRAN square had long been checked off (multiple times), and he'd been well on his way to a full blackout, when he'd met Lotor for the first time, full of nothing but excitement at a new sugar daddy attached to one of his favourite brands of dick. And then, right there at that secluded, candle-lit table in a restaurant Lance could never afford if he saved for a lifetime, Lotor had said _"If you agree to our arrangement, there can be no others. But I promise your bank account will never know the difference."_

All it had taken after that was one proper test date before Lance was ending his arrangements with the five sugar daddies (and one sugar mama) he'd had at the time, and he hadn't looked back since. Although, his bank account did actually notice the difference between before-Lotor and after-Lotor, but only because his monthly allowance had turned out to be twice what he'd been getting combined.

That bingo card was gathering dust in his room somewhere, and Lance hadn't so much as felt the faintest desire to complete it since he'd put it away.

Lotor was still against and inside him, face pressed to Lance's neck and breath steady, and Lance was honestly too horny for that now that all the misunderstandings had been cleared up and he was getting his groove back. He tapped the heel on the ground and tapped insistently at Lotor's ankle as he tugged the man's hair and nipped at his neck. "Come ooonnn," he whined, topping it off with a firm squeeze of the muscles wrapped around Lotor's cock. Annoyingly, Lotor was too used to his tricks and didn't react like he used to, he just straightened up, looming over Lance and smirking.

Fingers smoothed up Lance's thighs and under his dress to wrap around his corseted waist, and the sight of those large hands spanning his width was so arousing that Lance had to take a deep breath to try and bring himself back under control. His kink for their size difference was going to kill one of these days. If Lotor's dick didn't do it to him first.

"Always," Lotor whispered, pulling out, "so," pushing in, "im-" out "pa-" in "tient," out.

Not a lot of things could render Lance speechless. Except maybe those ridges. But only a little.

"You're such a fucking tease," Lance complained, trying to pull Lotor back in through the sheer force of will and the power of his ass.

"And you," Lotor replied, finally pushing back in, "are a brat."

"High class brat," Lance grinned.

Lotor blinked at him, and then one of his hands was sliding back down to Lance's thigh, holding it up parallel to his hip. It shifted his cock to a new angle that had Lance sucking in a breath and becoming painfully aware of his pulse in his own cock. Thankfully, Lotor decided to _finally_ set into the steady pace that both Lance and his ass deserved (and appreciated), and it helped a lot to even out the intense arousal pounding a steady drum beat through his body.

"That, by the way, is why I've been forcing myself not to look at you most of the evening," Lotor said, almost conversationally.

It took a moment for Lance to even process the confession, but once he did, he frowned in confusion. "Why, because I look too good?" he snarked.

"Yes."

The simple reply brought Lance up short, and he narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

"I swear to you that, if I had any less control, you would have woken from your nap in the the hotel room on my cock," Lotor said solemnly. And fuck him for sounding so filthy saying such things in that low, articulate voice of his.

"I almost broke and fucked you in the car," he continued, oblivious, or perhaps not, to the affect his words were having on Lance, whose face was getting hotter and his pulse faster the dirtier his prince of a sugar daddy spoke. "And when we got here, and I saw the way everyone was looking at you, smelled their interest in you, all I wanted to do was bend you over the table and show them all that you were mine. I couldn't bear the thought of bringing you to the dance floor and having them watch you, covet you, ask you for a dance."

Goddess it was so fucking hot when Lotor got possessive. It almost seemed like he cared the same way that Lance cared when he got like this. "Oh, then you definitely have to dance with me now," Lance declared like he wasn't two seconds from coming, like he wasn't being affected physically or emotionally by Lotor's words. The fingers at his waist and at the back of his thigh tightened, just for a brief second, and he caught a glimpse of the tip of a fang. "Even the people who don't have noses like yours are going to be able to tell what you did to me in here. You'll take me out on that dance floor and whirl me around and they'll all _know_ that I'm yours, that you've claimed me."

In his years sleeping his way through the galaxy, or rather, whatever parts of the galaxy ended up on earth, Lance had long ago learned that most alien races were closer to their animal instincts than most humans were, and they had all seemed to relish in laying a claim on Lance. Each one was a little different, but it almost always boiled down to a visual and/or scent claim.

Even Lotor, as cultured as he appeared, even as civilized as he _wanted_ to appear, was no different. If Lance hadn't forbidden marks above the neckline, he was sure he'd come away from every date with no less than three prominently displayed hickies. As it was, sometimes he couldn't wear shorts, or even take off his shirt, around his family or his friends because Lotor had had an oral fixation that day.

Not that Lance minded - it was nice, sometimes, to be owned.

"I'd almost call you manipulative if you weren't so blatant about it," Lotor said.

Lance laughed and pressed a kiss to the Galran's cheek. "If I want something, all I have to do is tell you and you'll give it to me. Who needs to be coy when you've got a hookup like that?"

Lotor paused for the first time and raised his eyebrow, completely ignoring all of Lance's efforts to pull him back into his body. "I may be spoiling you too much."

"No such thing," Lance dismissed, even though Lotor was _possibly_ correct. There probably wasn't another sugar baby out there treated as well as Lance was. Not that Lance would admit that to Lotor - he couldn't chance the man actually finding some chill.

"Hm," Lotor hummed doubtfully, but his hips started moving again and Lance reward him with a kiss.

One kiss turned into two turned into three turned into Lotor's greedy hands pulling Lance so tight into his body that Lance almost couldn't breathe. It was the kind of sex he lived for, the kind of need that made him feel alive, valued, wanted. Even if the stretch of his leg over Lotor's shoulder was gonna hurt like fuck later, it was gonna be well worth it. It always was.

When he finally pulled back to breathe, his eyes slid open, and he was surprised to find someone in the doorway, watching them. He blinked, startled, before remembering they were in a public bathroom, one that anyone could walk into. One that anyone just did.

"Get. Out!" Lotor growled against his neck, the vibrations rolling right through Lance's body and making him shudder. And even though he couldn't see Lotor's expression, with the wide-eyed way the stranger was staring at them, he could only imagine how they looked: Lance, flushed and in the process of getting dicked down on the counter; Lotor, back to the man but those cat-like eyes were probably glaring into the mirror from over Lance's shoulder.

Either the stranger was too stupid to recognize the threat, or he was paralyzed from it, because he didn't move, didn't break eye contact. He just kept staring at Lance with wide eyes and parted lips. Lance smirked at him.

"Don't pay attention to him, pay attention to me," Lotor growled, the hand at Lance's waist suddenly gone and fingers curled into the short strands of his hair.

"Now who's being a brat?" Lance teased loftily, and Lotor responded by yanking back on Lance's head, stopping his breath and his heart up short.

"Only. Me."

Lance arched his chest up into Lotor's body, pulling at the hand in his hair with a stretch of his neck, but only so he could feel Lotor resist him. "Vrepit sa," Lance murmured, smiling at the ceiling at the feel of fangs pressing against his neck in warning.

The hand in his hair a fist at the base of his skull, and Lotor's next thrust would have pushed him up the counter if the hand under his thigh wasn't holding him in place, tight enough to bruise. Lance _moaned_, porn star-like, deep and throaty, the noise vibrating in the room. He tried to be considerate when they fucked in public, tried to stay quiet, but if Lotor wanted to make a scene, then who was Lance to deny him? Rather, who was Lance to not go along with everything that he wanted? Especially when he was getting paid for it, and paid for it well.

"Aren't you in a vocal mood," Lotor mused against his neck, suddenly-soft-again voice an odd counterpart to the still-powerful thrusts of his hips.

"Maybe I just wanna put on a show," Lance replied, keeping his voice soft, breathy, just a hint of moan in every word.

"I wasn't aware you were an exhibitionist." There was something about Lotor's tone that Lance couldn't quite parse out, but he would worry about that later.

"I might be a little bit of a one. For you, anyway," he acquiesced. Because he wasn't really. But when it came to Lotor… he didn't mind people knowing he was owned.

"You want more to see you like this?" That something was there again, and this time, Lance realized it was possessiveness. It made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest and he had to force himself to swallow it down.

"Nah." He cracked an eye and angled his head towards the door, unsurprised to see their intruder gone. "He won't come back until we've left, and he'll probably make sure no one else interrupts us either. He doesn't want to incur the prince's wrath by coveting what belongs to the master of the Galran battle arenas."

The hand under his thigh tugged hard enough that his ass almost slid right off the counter, but Lance knew that, no matter what, Lotor wouldn't let him fall.

"You do so love to parade that title about." Lotor's thrusts were getting harder, faster, more insistent, and the warmth in Lance's chest sunk into his belly, getting hotter as it fell into his groin.

He didn't even have to close his eyes to recall Lotor's latest match, he'd rewatched the recording so much. "It's well earned, and I do so love watching you earn it."

The hand in his hair pulled away and Lance tightened his hold on Lotor, his grip spasming a moment later when Lotor fisted his cock. "Do you get hard when you watch me?" Lotor asked against his ear, the stroke of his fingers around Lance's dick a painful sort of slow, especially when compared to how hard he was fucking him. "Do you want to touch yourself when you watch me? I can smell your desire when you come to me after. It makes me want to take you in the center of the arena, make you come on the blood of my fallen opponents. I always want to claim you where all my people can see that you. are. mine."

This time, Lance's moan was wholly heartfelt, and he let his head fall back, leaving his throat exposed to Lotor's attentions. But the dominoes were already in place. He could already feel his orgasm creeping up on him, like electrified steel wool filling his fingers and toes and spreading outward.

"I'll have to start avoiding you after your matches then," he panted out, feeling the fuzz reaching for his brain. "If you actually asked me, Idunno if I could say no."

There was a feeling like a pause in the air, and then the hand around his cock tightened and fangs closed at the front of his throat, the pressure so unbearably close to piercing that pain and pleasure exploded in a violent tangle and Lance gasped his way through his orgasm, mouthing helplessly at Lotor's neck. Even half out of his mind with bliss, he could feel the moment when Lotor came, in the way his hips finally fell still, the throbbing of the cock in him, the heat of alien come filling him. But most importantly, he could feel it in the way Lotor wrapped around him, like Lance would disappear as he came down from his high if Lotor didn't hold on tight enough.

Lance was still feeling blind from the come down when a mouth pressed against his and stole the breath he'd worked so hard to get back, but he gave it up freely, willingly. Lotor's tongue against his was slow and thick and warm and Lance greeted the affection in kind, letting himself fall into it until he was drunk from it. Even when it tried to pull away, he kept it close, letting it warm him from the inside. He was lucky, that this sugar daddy indulged him so, that he _wanted_ this sugar daddy to indulge him, and in return, he always made sure he gave as good as he got.

"Lance," Lotor murmured against his mouth, between kisses.

Lance shook his head. "No." He didn't want to go back out there, envious looks or no. He wanted to go somewhere quiet and secluded and get fucked properly, until he couldn't walk.

"My parents are coming."

Lotor's voice was amused but the words were like a bucket of ice water dumped right over Lance's head and he bolted upright with a grimace, reactively clenching down on the cock still inside of him. A cock which pulled out despite his self-admittedly bratty whining.

"I know," Lotor said, voice solemn and expression somber as he carefully lowered the leg that had been over his shoulder to the ground. Lance winced at the shift in overworked muscles, though Lotor's fingers were already there, massaging his thigh. "I would much rather spend the evening alone with you, but my position has its requirements. However," the fingers at his thigh seemed to have forgotten their purpose and had started to lightly trace the lace at the top of Lance's thigh highs, and the touch left him shivering, "when we are through with this evening, I promise I will make it all up to you. Before you return home tomorrow."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Yeah?"

Lotor smiled, that soft smile that made Lance melt, and nodded before bestowing Lance with a chaste kiss. "Yes."

Because he was a drama queen, Lance sucked in a deep breath and let it out just as heavily. "Fiiine. Fine, okay. But you're gonna have to make it _really_ good."

"I'm confident I won't hear a word of complaint." The wording was dangerous, a callback to Lotor's earlier voiced fantasy of rendering Lance speechless through pleasure overload, but it was a danger that Lance would willingly run headlong into every time.

"I believe you," Lance said with a smile. "Now go waylay your parents so I can clean up before we dance."

Lotor finally stepped away and Lance politely averted his eyes as the Galran cleaned up, and then there was a hand at his throat, fingertips at his jaw turning his head forward again and tipping it back. "You truly are a masterpiece," Lotor said, eyes flitting over Lance's face, and Lance couldn't help but beam with pride and pleasure. "I will make sure you feel like it for the rest of the evening."

Before he could reply, Lotor kissed him again, a long, lingering thing that threatened to make Lance hard again and had him too close to just trying to steal Lotor away from the gala altogether. And when the Galran pulled back, Lance couldn't help but follow, until a hand pushed him back. A pout was pulling on his lips before he caught sight of Lotor's blown pupils and something in him settled at the realization that he wasn't the only one that would rather be anywhere else right now.

"Hurry," Lotor said, low and dark and rumbling as he moved towards the door. It felt like a game was falling into place, something like tag, a challenge to keep each other half hard and ready to run for the door until they were free to leave. First one to break loses.

Lance grinned. He'd already broken once tonight, unprofessionally so. It wasn't going to happen again. He was going to win this time. "Vrepit Sa, Daddy," he said cheekily with a half-hearted, but fully-mocking, Galra salute. Lotor rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling when the bathroom door closed behind him.

Feeling lighter than he had in hours, Lance hummed as he cleaned up, glad for the center slit in his dress that was, perhaps, the only thing that kept them from getting come on the delicate fabric; he had to have a lucky goddess looking after him for his outfit to get out of the encounter unscathed. He pulled his panties back up before carefully hopping off the counter, shaking out his skirts and making sure that everything was in place and covered.

"You're so fucking stupid~" he sang cheerfully to himself as he leaned over the counter and eyed his makeup with a trained eye, pleased to find it all still in place. His hair looked like he'd just been fucked and fucked good, so he smugly left it as it was. "I told you not to fall in love with him~"

Lance blew his reflection a kiss before following after Lotor. The man who'd walked in on them was standing beside the door like a bodyguard, which was honestly adorable. He couldn't seem to look at Lance either, which was just as cute, although a little insulting because Lance was fit for the runway and he deserved the attention. Oh well. He'd be getting all that and more as soon as Lotor started swinging him around the dance floor, trailing the scent of their sex.

"Thanks, handsome," Lance said with a wink, "it's all yours."

The stranger made a strangled sound and practically flailed his way through the bathroom door. The sheer adorable ridiculousness of it made Lance laugh and helped him keep a smile on his face when he finally stepped back into the ballroom.

FIN

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**It's been so long since I started trying to write this that I've forgotten my own name, much less what the prompt was, but at last I am finished and I'm not looking back. Are there plot holes? Plot threads just dangling around? I have no clue. However, as a reminder, Lance's gala outfit is over on my tumblr (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, post/182727857663) if you needed that again.**

**Chapter two is literally just a deleted scene of Lance getting ready that didn't seem like it would be interesting enough to keep in but I'd already written it sooo… might as well put it in chapter two if that's something you'd be interested in. lol**

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	2. DELETED SCENE Lance Gets Dressed

**CHAPTER TWO: [DELETED SCENE] Lance Gets Dressed (if you're into that sort of thing)**

**AN: Like I said at the end of last chapter/the main story: Chapter two is literally just a deleted scene of Lance getting ready that didn't seem like it would be interesting enough to keep in but I'd already written it sooo… might as well put it in chapter two if that's something you'd be interested in. lol**

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The rush of air as they flew through the city did little to cool the adrenaline making his skin warm, and the sight of the Most Eligible Bachelor billboard with LOTOR right at the top at #1 made Lance laugh so hard that by the time they landed on his hotel room's balcony, he was somehow _more_ awake than when the game ended.

He showered and shaved head to toe (again), careful not to scrub too hard at the gold lining his arms from fingertip to shoulders and _extra_ careful not to cut himself. Once he dried off and moisturized, he spent possibly a little too long making sure his eyeliner was sharp enough to kill and that the blue and gold eyeshadow Lotor had given him looked like the sun rising over in the summer sky.

"How you doin', beautiful?" he asked his reflection with a wink. He could have had Blue do his eyes, get that robotic perfection, but he had a _thing_ about things being near his eyes and that just wasn't happening.

The nail polish, the same sky shade of blue as his eyeshadow, was even faster to put on than his makeup with the aid of the fancy flash-dry machine sitting on the bathroom counter. Although he still spent too long sitting at the counter because the light shifting over the gold on the backs of his hands may have just possibly hypnotized him. A little. The sound of Blue shifting forms snapped him out of it, and he reflexively checked the time before realizing he still had hours to go before Lotor was supposed to pick him up.

"Shelter thine eyes!" he shouted dramatically out the bathroom door before striding into the bedroom in all his naked glory. Blue was sprawled in her feline form on the bed, her paws bracketing Lance's outfit, eyes watching Lance approach in all their unblinking yellow glowiness.

"Or you're free to watch the show, you know, whatever," he teased, leaning in close enough to press a kiss to the top of her head when he snagged his panties off the bed. Her rumbled purr sounded like a laugh and Lance couldn't help but smile.

He wondered if they could still be called 'panties' when they were basically little shorts, with a nifty little pouch for his soft dick, but the fineness of the thin, sky blue lace certainly felt like 'panty' material when he slid it up his smooth legs.

"Lioness, I will never get tired of expensive underwear," he muttered, unable to keep from running his hands over the firm curve of his ass. He whipped his head around to blow a kiss over his shoulder at Blue and she rumbled again, though this time it sounded an awfully lot like exasperation, turning her head away like she was rolling her eyes at him.

"It's called _fashion_. Look it up honey," Lance sniffed, sitting on the end of bed to roll his thigh highs up.

The material was so thin it was practically invisible and Lance kept forgetting he was wearing them even as they stretched up his legs. The only way he could tell was because of the smattering of gold scales sewn into the fabric, and even then it looked like his actual skin had sprouted scales. Thankfully they didn't require garters, and the semi-sticky band hidden by gold lace held firm to his muscular thighs (thank you, soccer!).

It wasn't until he picked up the corset and started tightening it around his waist it that something clicked - the blue in his underwear and corset, his dress and his shoes, his eyeshadow and nail polish, were all sky blue. Not just that, but they were all the _exact_ same shade of sky blue. And the gold filigree in his corset was the exact same as the gold in his tights and his secondary eyeshadow and his henna.

And on the heels of that realization was another: that exact matching shades wasn't something that could just be found in the wild. That had to be _made_. Which meant that Lotor had _commissioned_ everything Lance was wearing. He would have had to pay _really_ good money, to get all the pigments across different fabrics to match so precisely.

"That man really knows how to make me feel like a million GAC," Lance murmured, his heart feeling like it was glowing as he smoothed his hands down the curves of steel-boned silk brocade. He didn't know what it was exactly, but there was just… _something_ about touching a corseted waist that was just… deliciously satisfying.

Lance was extra careful when he lifted the dress, all that silk chiffon like clouds in his hands. The top half was sheer, and when he turned to have Blue zip him up, her metal maw exceptionally gentle with the tiny zipper, he realized it was so sheer that his corset was completely visible through it. He shook out his skirts and stuck a leg out through the center slit, delighted that it went up to his thighs, just long enough to draw attention to the gold scales running up his legs.

"Lotor really does think of everything," Lance told Blue, stepping into the high heels pebbled like water droplets. "He's definitely better at coordinating an outfit than I am. I feel like a mermaid."

The heels he'd been breaking in all week, but Lance had been too scared to even _look_ at the dress, much less touch it. He'd been terrified it'd fall victim to McClain's Law: any and all private time _will_ be interrupted, and the presence of any- and everything fragile and/or expensive will immediately be in high demand to be seen, and therefore, touched. And if any of his young siblings or cousins got anywhere near that dress, it would have been ripped to shreds and coated in no less than 20 unidentifiable (but likely food-based) substances. But now he was alone, no one to threaten his outfit, the room was his catwalk, and Lance strode the length of it, murder in every step.

His skirts flared out, floating like sea foam around his legs and trailing almost cape-like behind him, every step forward flashing gold through the slitted blue. "Ooooh~" Honestly, human men who were still ashamed of wearing skirts or dresses after all this time of alien cohabitation were honestly missing out - there was something just so free about wearing swooshy skirts and feeling the fabric swim around his legs.

When he turned back around and moved towards the bed again, this time he sashayed. There was a trick to it, especially with skirts like his: flowy skirts, long skirts, _and_ slit skirts. He took a few practice laps around the room, adjusting to the dress and figuring out exactly how to hold it to make his scales really shine. It kind of made him glad he'd been breaking in the heels at home all week because he'd never worked with a dress so flowy before and he'd be kicking himself right now if he'd had to figure out both skirts and shoes at the same time.

On his fifth time around the room, exhaustion suddenly slammed into him and he stumbled, barely catching himself on the chaise in front of the balcony doors.

"Oof," he huffed, blinking and finding his eyesight unreasonably blurry all of a sudden. "By the Lion Goddess, I better not get tears on my makeup," he muttered, letting his body collapse against the pillows. He wished he wasn't so tired, but after a night of restless sleep - the hotel room too quiet after a lifetime of his family home's unending chaos - and his soccer game, he was bound to crash. At least he crashed after he'd dolled up and before the party. "Maybe just a small nap…" He didn't even remember falling asleep.

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